Chapter 63 #3
His hand finds my hair, like it always does, and my teeth find his lip, like they always do.
Boston reaches down, hiking me into his arms. A surprised squeal leaves my mouth and I throw my head back, basking in the deep, rough chuckle that skims across my collarbone. I peer down at him as we make our way to my room, our eyes burning into each other.
This is it, isn’t it?
I think this is it for me.
I reach up, allowing my fingers to skim his face. Remembering that I almost lost him. Cherishing that I didn’t.
His face softens.
“I missed you, too,” he says softly, pushing open the door to my room.
When he gently lowers me onto the bed, I pull him down with me.
Thankfully, he doesn’t protest, doesn’t pause to take his clothes off—he just follows me.
We have time. We don’t have to rush. He reaches for a pillow, tucking it under my head, and cups my face in his palm, staring at me in the way that people do when they love each other.
Love.
My breath hitches as I peer up at him. “I’m scared, Boston.”
His throat bobs. “Me too.”
I swallow, my heart racing. “Please, don’t break my heart.”
His eyes shudder, but he nods, gently pushing some hair from my face. “I’ll take care of yours, just…take care of mine, too. Okay?”
I agree, leaning up to slowly capture his mouth with mine. His hand slides to the nape of my neck, pulling me slightly off the bed so that he can kiss me properly. He didn’t have to ask, but I understand why he did. We might have had different motives, but both of us avoided love for a reason.
This is scary. For the both of us. That fear isn’t going to evaporate just because we’re facing it.
His tongue slides into my mouth, and I let out a soft sigh.
Slowly lowering his weight onto my body, Boston rolls onto his side.
I slide my leg through his, my hand gliding through his hair, treasuring the way he keeps me close.
He pulls his mouth from mine, and just as I go to protest, he starts placing kisses down my jaw.
God, I missed this.
His kisses glide down my neck and down my collarbone, his hands sliding under my t-shirt.
He tugs me to his chest then, hugging me, his hands roaming my bare skin. It’s so intimate. So vulnerable. He presses a soft kiss to my shoulder. There is something overwhelming about the simplicity of just laying here with him. Not needing to hide. Not needing to rush.
I skim my hands down his body, sliding my fingers under the hem of his shirt, and I slowly pull it off his body. He raises his arms to help me, moving to hover over top of me. Our eyes burn into each other.
I love you.
He reaches down and slowly peels my top over my head, his throat bobbing as his eyes trail over my body.
“Take those off,” I order, reaching for the button of his pants. He cocks a brow and I smile. “Please.”
“So polite,” he grumbles, and slides off the bed to do as I asked. I use that time to rid myself of my own bottoms so that I’m just in my bra and underwear when he crawls back onto the bed, as naked as I’d like him to be.
I smile, taking him in. Magnificent, this one. Truly and utterly perfect.
I reach my hand up to his pecs, running it down his chest and stomach. His breath hitches, and when I reach the spot where he wants me, I wrap my hand around him completely. His eyes flutter shut, and the groan that leaves him fuels my blood.
“Damn,” he grunts, cracking his eyes open. He brackets my head with his hands. Leaning down to kiss me, he reaches between us to pull my hand from his body. “Do you know that I convinced myself I’d never have this again?”
“Me too,” I whisper against his mouth. His hand slides between my legs, groaning when he meets no resistance. He glides his fingers through me, focusing on the exact spots where I need him, muffling my moan with his lips.
I arch against his hand, and his tongue slides into my mouth the same time that he pushes inside. God, he’s good. I need more. Want more. Crave more. Always, if he’s involved.
I tear my mouth from his, letting out a whimper. He immediately goes for my neck—kissing, biting, licking. His fingers keep their momentum— slow, deep, and controlled.
“Oh god,” I whine, grabbing onto the sheets. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He chuckles against my collarbone. “That’s my favourite thing that you do.”
“What?” I ask breathlessly, my mind struggling to catch up to our conversation.
“Swear at me like a sailor when I make you feel good,” he says huskily, kissing my shoulder again. He leans up, pressing his mouth to mine, but unfortunately withdraws his hand at the same time. “It’s cute.”
“I don’t want to be cute,” I say. “Not while you’re fucking me.”
“Oh, trust me,” he says with a look. “Everything else about you is nuclear-level hot, sweetheart, but the swearing? Cute as fuck.”
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll accept cute as fuck.”
He grins, his eyes dropping to my mouth when I purse my lips in request. “That’s another one of my favourite things.”
He kisses me. “What?”
“Asking me to kiss that mouth without ever saying a word,” he says quietly, kissing me deeper this time.
He pushes my legs apart with his knees, never once breaking our kiss. He slides my underwear to the side with his fingers and I suck in a breath and brace myself, biting down gently on his bottom lip as he pushes inside me in one smooth stroke.
The satisfied, guttural moan that leaves his body makes me tremble around him. So hot. So unbelievably hot. He takes his time until his hips are flush against mine, my fingers dragging along his shoulders.
“I don’t know how I ever thought that we could end this,” he says against my jaw. “Best feeling in the world.”
I don’t know if he means the sex or the feeling of being in love with each other. He might mean both.
“Stop,” I beg, feeling my body shake against him. He hasn’t even moved yet. “I swear if you move an inch, I’m going to break a record for the fastest orgasm in history.”
He blinks, pulling back to look at me. He scans my face to see if I’m joking. “Really?”
He seems to notice then, the way my body is trembling. He reaches down, sliding his hand to my thigh, gliding it up to the side of my ass. He softly brushes his thumb against the skin there, over and over, trying to calm my body.
His eyes connect with mine. Neither of us speak. His thumb continues its movements and without warning, and while still being buried inside me, Boston thrusts even deeper. That’s all it takes, one movement, one brush against the right spot.
I fall over the edge, a desperate string of curses leaving me in a panic. My body shakes against him as the waves smack into me over, and over, and over again.
Holy shit.
“Fuck,” he says quietly, watching me come undone. He reaches up to cup my face, forcing me to meet his eyes, but I’m still in the thick of it, my mouth trembling. “You are unbelievable.”
“Oh my god,” I cry out, and he studies me, brow furrowed. He slowly starts to rock into me again and I nod to encourage him. He can keep going. He can definitely keep going.
He fucks me, slowly and methodically. He touches my face, my breasts, my stomach. He pushes against all the spots that make my body shake the way it just did, and I move my hips, helping him.
I will not come again before he comes once.
I reach for him, pulling him down to me. He doesn’t change his pace as he kisses me, not even when I pull his bottom lip into my teeth to get him where I need him to be.
It works. He groans—loudly, desperately, and when I drop my head to the pillow, I know he’s seconds away from the finish line.
“Can you get there with me?” he murmurs.
I nod frantically.
He leans upward, showing me that body I have committed to memory.
I reach forward, sliding my hand down his toned stomach, loving the feeling as much as he does.
His brow furrows, a string of breathless moans leaving his mouth, and he comes.
Hard. I follow right behind him, moving against his body as he holds me in place.
When the high eases, he lets out a long, relieved breath. He stares down at me and I stare right back, pursing my lips. He lets out a chuckle, falling forward. He kisses me like he loves me. I kiss him like I believe him.
“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to scan my face. “I…I should have—”
I shake my head, sliding my hand to his jaw. “No, I wanted that. Badly.”
“Yeah?” He searches my eyes, my face.
I brush my thumb against his beard. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” He smiles, pressing his lips to mine. Slow. Soft. “Can I sleep over?”
“I guess. Only because I can’t finish that charcuterie board on my own.”
He chuckles, falling to the side of my body, and tugs me to his chest. “Post-sex snack sounds like heaven, to be fair.”
“I get all the olives.”
“Give me, like, five, and we have a deal.”
I pretend to think about it, but then sigh in defeat.
“This is the start of a great fucking story, sweetheart,” he says softly, kissing my hair.
Yeah, I think it just might be…